


Shattered

by bananasandroses (achuislemochroi)



Series: Whofic [82]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: 2X05 (The Girl In The Fireplace), Angst, Awkward Conversations, F/M, Implied Relationships, Missing Scene, Tenth Doctor Era, reposting old fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-11-05 14:04:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11014920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/achuislemochroi/pseuds/bananasandroses
Summary: Sometimes, the only choices are bad ones; but you still have to choose.





	Shattered

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve always been intrigued by whether the Doctor spoke to Rose before he went through the time window to save Reinette. This explores that a little.

You told Rose, not even days ago, you wouldn't leave her behind. Yet here you are. A matter of hours, perhaps (although you’re very much _not thinking about it_ ), and it’s looking as if you must do just that.

To think about being without her winds you. You’ve made her utterly necessary to you, and every part of you rebels at the choice you’re about to make, but with an irrevocable change to history in the offing there’s no ‘choice’ involved.

But what are the alternatives?

Your first thought: send the Idiot through. There’s a certain amount of self-interest here, you admit, with how it’d remove the competition for Rose (and how you’re regretting the decision to let Mickey come with you. You should have listened to your instincts and said no.) But you discard it almost as soon as you think of it.

You don’t trust Mickey not to mess it up, and the last thing you want to happen is for you to have to go there yourself to sort it out and leave Rose stranded there, alone, with no way home. It wouldn’t take you long to find an earlier incarnation of yourself and persuade him to bring you back to within seconds of going through, but _that’s_ not the point.

(Everything ends up being about Rose, you’ve noticed, even when the surface seems to be something or someone else. That makes you feel uneasy, but you can’t think what to do about it.)

Not Mickey, then. The next idea: send in Rose, and follow with the TARDIS in slower time. This showed promise, but you decide against it because you can’t predict your landings at the best of times. There’s _no way_ you’re prepared to risk Rose dying in pre-Revolutionary France, hundreds of years before she was ever born.

You can smell the paradox a mile off and it terrifies you.

You pretend it’s because you don’t want dealings with Reapers. That’s true enough, in its way, but it’s only part of the reason: you don’t want her to die alone. You’ve promised her you’ll never leave her behind and, while there’s breath left in your body, it’s a promise you intend to keep. The fact you’re in love with Rose, and this is all due to your desperation to fix things without leaving her or putting her at risk, is something you’re refusing to admit, let alone think about.

And, with both the Idiot and Rose out of consideration, the only choice you have is to go yourself. You hope it’ll only be a few years, for you, before you can get back to Rose without causing her too much stress. And, you concede as an afterthought, you don’t want to stress the Idiot too much, either. Once you’ve sorted out this mess, though, Mickey is going home (and won’t get a choice). And you hope to explore, with Rose, whatever this thing is between you. On _that_ , you are immovable.

So you’ve made your decision; what now? You need to find a way through, and you need to talk to Rose. Preferably, without the Idiot dancing attendance; you send him off to fetch something from the TARDIS, to get him out of the way. And then your entire attention shifts to Rose, the woman who has, somehow, become your entire reason to exist.

‘Come walk with me?’

Tempus is fugiting like mad, and Reinette hasn’t much of it to waste. But for these precious, snatched moments, your focus is on the woman who completes you. She takes your proffered hand and you close your fingers around hers, willing the sensation of how her skin feels against yours into your memory so it’s there to sustain you in the time ahead.

‘Rose ...’

You breathe her name, even as you decide how to break this to her, how to explain. You need her to realise it’s as much, if not more, in her interest for you to do this as in Reinette’s. You look at her, saying nothing, as you struggle to find the words to communicate everything you feel for the fantastic woman in front of you.

Your eyes catch with hers and lock, and for a second or two you think she’ll be OK. She won’t be pleased about the idea, but you hope she’s realistic enough to accept you have no choice. And just as your magnificent mind shows you a picture of a man on horseback jumping through a mirror ( _so_ that’s _how I’ll do it_ ) she speaks.

‘You’re going to go and save her, aren’t you?’

Her tone is flat, dull, as if she’s been expecting you to up and leave her, just like that, and you give her a sharp look. A heavy sigh follows, at what you see in her face, and you pull her into a crushing hug. Even if you can’t admit it to her, you love this woman; being without her will hurt.

‘If there were any other way, Rose, I’d take it. I don’t want to leave you any more than you want me to go, but there’s no _choice_.’

Your voice breaks at this and you bury your face in her neck for a moment. Drinking in the feel and smell of her, you imprint them on your memory so you’ll always have them. She feels heavy, and so _right_ , in your arms. Her body flush against yours so you can feel every part of her against you, you torture yourself for a moment or two by imagining what it would be like to stay. You can almost taste what it would be like, to ignore the mechanical nightmares demanding your attention and stay here with Rose in your arms, before she speaks again and shatters the illusion.

‘But you sa—‘

You raise your head at that, so you can look her straight in the eyes when you answer.

‘I know what I said. I meant it then and I mean it now. But, Rose ... Reinette didn’t die when she was thirty-seven. If that changes, I don’t know what else changes with it.’

You continue to look at her while considering what you’re about to do. And then you take a chance and kiss her, hard and with intent, full on the mouth.

‘I will come back for you,’ you say in a voice cracking with emotion. ‘I swear it. And when I do, we need to talk, you and I. But Rose, _please_ —‘ you break off, hoping she cannot see the pain you are already feeling written across your face. You try again to finish, putting as much of what you’re feeling into your tone as possible.

‘I need you. I _can’t lose you_. But I have to do this. I have to save Reinette, so I can guarantee I have you to come back to. Rose,’ you are almost begging, now. ‘My Rose. Can’t you _see_?’

At that, you feel her arms tighten around you for a second before she lets go.

‘Go,’ she says, more emotion in her tone than you’ve ever heard from her.

‘Rose?’

‘Go, now; while you still can. Before it hurts too much to let you.’

You can only look at her, stunned by her acceptance; you’d been so sure she’d take it badly. Then you lean in to kiss her again, a kiss as brief as before and far more gentle, but full of promise, before going to the horse. Once in the saddle you look back at her, still unwilling to leave her and waiting for her to give you permission to stay.

‘Go,’ she says.

And you do.


End file.
